Harry James Potter The SoCalled Hero
by flowerfunleah
Summary: Divulge yourself into the mind of Harry James Potter, explore the thoughts of the boy you thought you knew. Introduce yourself to the Harry Potter he doesnt show to others, but to a lonely journal.
1. You Don't Know Me

You all know me by name, Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter who made You-Know-Who disappear. Yes, you all know that, but you don't know **me**. Hermione gave me this diary this summer, she said, in hopes that it would do me some good to write out my "anger" since....since Sirius disappeared. I know exactly what you're thinking! Don't pretend you aren't...you're thinking "Poor ickle Harry Potter, still in denial that his one and only living godfather is now **Dead**." He's not dead! Do you hear me? He's. Not. Dead. 

Funny, isn't it? How..how you can look back on a memory or picture with someone you love and realize that you had no _idea_ something bad was to happen to you in just a few months short time. Professor Trelawney once told me that, well that people could sense when death was coming, like they would just wake up one day and have a feeling that they aren't going to be around much longer whether it be a few days, or hours, or even minutes. Could Sirius sense that? Or do you dare to even think...that my parents could? Funny though, whenever I have fought with Voldemort.whenever I was doing something dangerous I never felt that I wouldnt come out of it alive. I never felt fear that I would never see Ron or Hermione or anyone again. 

It's not fair! It's NOT fair that THEY had to die and I didn't! Why wasn't it _me_? Don't you see you stupid journal? Its MY fault they've died, its MY fault. Don't give me that look and tell me it's not. My parents died because of ME, because of a stupid prophecy that Voldemort believed. It was **I** who caused their death; it was ME that made him want to kill them! And it was me that caused Sirius to die. If I had just listened, if I had just stayed at Hogwarts he wouldn't have come after me and he would still be here today. I shouldn't have believed that stupid elf, I hope he dies. If I...if I...I took that mirror Sirius gave me, and I sat in bed for hours calling his name. First, it started off ok "Sirius? Sirius, come in, are you there Sirius?" But no one answers, not that I expected one to, but rather hoped. Then it got worse, I got angry and I couldn't control my emotions anymore, between yelling and holding back my own tears "SIRIUS! You bastard! Come in Sirius! Come back..." but he never did and I threw that stupid mirror. WHY? Why did he come after me? I'm not worth it Sirius! Do you hear me? I'm not worth dying for! 

God. This is stupid....

(Authors Note: I'm disappointed really because this is not how I imagined my story would look like once it was out there on ff.net. It's not spaced and since this is my first time posting on fanfiction.net if anyone could offer me some helpful hints? Like how to get it to space paragraphs, italics, bolds, underlines and the such, it would be really appreciated. Thanks!)


	2. Damn That Pretty Girl

AUTHORS NOTE:

Ok, so finally someone took pity on me and clued me in as to how to get it to space paragraphs. Whoo! Seeing as how these entries are so short I'll most likely be updating every two days, if not every day. I hope to. Cross your fingers!

Damn That Pretty Girl

*******

I tried throwing this stupid thing out the window the other day. Every time I try it just ends up back on my bed. I bet you anything Hermione put some kind of charm on it. Haha, she really knows me too well, doesn't she? I suppose she's right, I do feel a bit better after writing in this stupid thing. You know...I have a lot of respect for Hermione. I don't know if she realizes it or not, but she takes care of me sort of. Not like a mother, no, but as a best friend. *grins* Keeping Ron and I in line, as if we ever could be. Then giving me this, this journal. I bet Ron and I would be expelled by now if she hadn't been there with us. Wonder what made us dislike her in our first year.... 

I repaired the mirror again. I always repair it. It's my last hope of talking to Sirius again. Think about it, Sirius said when he gave it to me that it was our way of communicating when Umbridge was being a nasty old bat to me. So, he must have had it all the time, right? Even when he went into that black veil. I realize this the other night as I was lying in bed. He must have had it, which means that...that if I keep trying eventually he'll remember he has it and I'll know that he's alright. I know it, it has to be that. I should have used the mirror to see if he was home instead of checking with that bastard of an elf, Kreacher. Another thing I blame myself for, I didn't open it when he gave it to me. I should have. Why didn't I? 

Another thing I was thinking about last night was Cho. She's gorgeous. I've come to a conclusion about girls. They're scandalous. Honestly! All she did all year was cry over Cedric. Did she honestly really think I wanted to talk about it? Sure, I can understand her pain, but seriously people it was hard enough giving that damned interview, I don't need her bringing it up every time we speak. Yeah, the kissing was great...really great actually, but it wouldn't work between us. Its not me she likes, its Cedric she loves and because of what happened she, maybe, feels that I could be him. That's pretty good psychobabble, isn't it? Yeah, well don't get your hopes up, Hermione told me that. But it makes sense. 

Ah, I think I hear someone coming. Do I really want them seeing me writing in a diary? No, excuse me, I mean Man-Journal. 

-Harry James Potter 

****


	3. Awake and Dying

Awake and dying 

It's late....probably past midnight or later already here and I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. Do you know what happens when my eyes close and I slip into oblivion? I hear screams, torture, and that laughter...that maniacal laughter that haunts my dreams. He haunts me, don't you see? Ever since I came into this god damn world he's been after me, trying to kill me, trying to stop some stupid prophecy that a batty old witch made before I was ever born. He's after me in my dreams...I feel him every night when I do end up sleeping, sifting silent and smooth through my mind, bringing my worst memories and fears before me so that I can see them and then laughing in my face...that maniacal laughter that pierces the very center of my heart. There's nowhere to turn! I can't escape him in my mind; I can't escape him when I'm awake! God, I should just let him take me! It would be easier for him to take me, it would be easier for him to just kill me and be done with it. So what if the rest of the wizarding world suffers! Haven't I suffered enough? Haven't I?! 

I'm not scared of him if that's what your thinking. I've faced Voldemort almost every single year of my life without fear. I used wits! Wits and magic! I don't have anyone anymore...anyone...I'm all alone here, here in my room, here in this house, here in the world. The Dursley's, my only living family if you could call them that. Why couldn't they love me? They loved Dudley and still do. Why couldn't they accept me for who I am, for _what_ I am? My Aunt Petunia, my mothers sister, she must have some love for me, mustn't she? According to Dumbledore the one power I have that Voldemort doesn't is my mother's love for me running through my veins. My Aunt must have the same thing, my **mothers** love. I bet you're thinking now "He's insane...he must be desperate if he's seeking love from the one person who's despised him his entire life" There's NO ONE else! NO ONE else I can turn to in this god-forsaken world for love. If wanting love from the only person capable of loving me anymore is insane then I AM insane. Call me crazy! Everyone already does behind my back at Hogwarts. The ONE man that loved me, the one man that was like a father to me is gone now. He's dead. And I killed him. 

They say a strong man never cries, then I guess must be weak. I killed Sirius. 

-Harry James Potter

Authors Note: I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has reviewed and offered me some constructive critism (sp?). The later entries get better, I think, more open about other things than Sirius and Cedric and Voldemort! Thanks for reviewing, it means a lot to me.


	4. Cock and Bull

Cock and Bull

Someone once told me that we forget things because they are not worth remembering. I told him that was a load of cock and bull. I can't remember my parents, does that mean they weren't worth remembering? I don't think so. They certainly were, at least, that's what I think since they "died bravely" (Ok, irl break here for a moment. I'm at an Internet cafe, some guy is smoking beside me, and does he give a fuck if I die from his second hand smoke? Noooooooooo. People are so inconsiderate.) Sometimes when I'm up at night I wonder if what people have told me about them is really true. So many fucking people have lied to me, the only person I really trust to tell me the truth is Dumbledore. Even Ron and Hermione lie to me, so how do I know that when people tell me that my parents have died bravely, that they're telling the truth? Actually, people say that I'm like my father "Oh he looks so much like James!" blah blah blah, besides that, I mean personality wise. If I'm really like my father, really like him, then I have no doubt in my mind that he died fighting Voldemort. I'm not sure though, if that were the way he would have wanted to go. Died knowing that Voldemort killed him, knowing that Voldemort was to go on and kill more people. Or perhaps he knew about the prophecy, knew that I would be Voldemort's temporary downfall. When I saw him..saw him in Snape's penseive I thought to myself "This is it! This is my father!" I wanted to ask him a million questions, wanted to ask him if remembered me. Stupid no? Asking a dead guy if he remembers his one and only son that has gone through hell fighting a battle that his father lost. Wow. That sounded really terrible. Is it possible, that instead of looking up to my father now, that I am resenting him? Could it be that I am treating his memory as if he were still alive, telling me what and what not to do? I grew up respecting him, thinking him my hero and now, like most teenagers I expect, I am resenting him, rebelling possibly, against a man that no longer exists. He's dead Harry, I keep telling myself, he's dead as a doornail and you have to move on. It's funny, that I can still feel grief over someone I have never really met. No one understands, I yearn for the chance to just have once talked to him, to hug him, to call him dad. I replaced Sirius with my father, I realize that now, Sirius was like a father to me, wanted me to live with him, wanted maybe to see my children if I were to ever marry? 

Oh yeah, that's a great thought, what girl is really gonna wanna marry a guy who's doomed to die by the most evil wizard alive? Oh the good times I have ahead of me. What a bright fucking future! Gee, aren't I lucky? To be famous, to be liked, to be known to all the wizarding community? But, let's NOT think negative for a second; say that I do end up killing Voldemort for good, what happens after that? DUH, I'll be considered a hero, again. Will I be the next Gilderoy Lockhart? Shall I write a book about my life and be even more widely known? You know, I didn't ask for this fame, I don't even want it. All I need are my friends and the Weasley family who are like my own. I feel I belong to them, I could be Harry Weasley, haha, does that have a good ring to it? I am perfectly content going down a street without people whispering "Psst! That's Harry Potter! Look at his scar!". 

On this happy go lucky note, I bid you, once again, farewell, don't be so certain that I will write again, for nothing is ever certain. 

-Harry James Potter.

Whoo hoo! Four reviews! It makes me happy just to know that someone out there is reading this. I appreciate the reviews SO much in fact that I decided to respond to the three people that have done it so far. I always like when authors respond to MY reviews so I bet other people like it as well. On with the show!

Wicchick- Thank you! I thought that somebody had already come up with this idea but I guess not. If you like sad hp fic stories I suggest that you read "Scared Potter?" by Queenofgondor21. It always makes me cry.

Erialarrowman- Thanks for the thoughts! I'll definitely work on that, it gets better as the entries go on, the thoughts are less jumbled and more put together. I hope you liked this entry.

Lainie xox- The chapters do get longer as the entries go on, I hope you like that. Harry's journal is just like a real journal, sometimes the entries are short, some times they are long. I hope that when people read this they feel like they are looking at an actual journal rather than just reading it like a story, ya know? Thanks for your review!

As I say every time I end this, your reviews mean a lot to me. They are what keep me posting! Thank you to those that have reviewed!


	5. It's Better You Didn't Come Back

It's Better You Didn't Come Back

Lately I've taken to lurking in the girl's bathroom upstairs with moaning myrtle. It's the only place really where I can be alone and I know that no one will come in to ask me what's wrong or how I've been doing lately. I don't know why they bother; they know what's wrong and how I've been doing lately. My godfather died for Christ's sake! Voldemort's bitch of a death eater killed him and was saved by her bastard of a boss! How do they **really** think I'm doing? I like it up here in this bathroom, I like sitting against the coolness of the sinks and just....thinking, thinking about everything that just happens to cross my mind. Thinking about things worth remembering. Sometimes Myrtle will come down to me and tell me her worthless problems, it helps to listen about how miserable someone else is for a change. I asked her once, I asked her why she chose to remain as her former self on earth and do you know what she told me? She said she remained here so that she could haunt Olive Hornby for the rest of her life and make it miserable, I told her that was a stupid reason and she looked at me for the longest time, just... stared at me until finally, she spoke the words that I had expected least, she agreed. 

Why, I ask myself, did Sirius not come back as a ghost? Why, Sirius has always done everything he can to talk and be with me, he has ALWAYS, always, been there for me. Is life after death so entrancing that it is possible for you to forget about family and friends waiting for you on the side in which you have so suddenly left? I don't understand....how could he forget me? Dumbledore said that he loved me, that I was like a brother or a son or something, anything, to him. What about my parents? Why didn't they come back as ghosts to be with me if they loved me so much? Then again, maybe its because he loved me so much, that he _didn't_ come back. How much more pain do you think people have when someone dies? Do you know? I do. A lot, a huge amount, now think about it for a second, use that brain, how much worse do you think it would hurt for that person to come back as a ghost and that's it. I think it would hurt a lot more to know that I could never touch him again, I could never hug him and give him affection like you would do normally with someone who is NOT dead. I think it would hurt so much worse knowing that I didn't have my full godfather back, knowing that it was ME, Harry Potter, that kept him from dying in peace and kept him on this godforsaken earth with its problems and people. You're not going to live forever you know, eventually your going to die and I know for sure that I don't want to come back as a ghost, I'm not afraid of death, hell if I can fight Voldemort and get away with it I can certainly handle a little thing like death. 

Sometimes I wish Voldemort had killed me. Sometimes. 

-Harry James Potter 

moony391- Really?! I feel special now, I'm glad you like it so far.


	6. Struggling To Breathe

Struggling To Breathe

The silence was deafening. What was once moments seems like hours as the vivid flare of emerald light hastening towards what I think is me, but no, its not me its my friend, my challenger, its Cedric. It's Cedric that dies, not me. Why I ask myself as I stare at his limp body on the ground, the moments passing before me before Pettigrew comes to tie me, why doesn't he get up? Pettigrews arms have bound me now, in my mind there's no time, no place, struggling I shout: Get up Cedric! Get up! Voldemorts out here! Take the goddamned Portkey and get out! But he doesn't move..he never moves. That dream comes to me almost every night now, and every night I wake with a cold sweat on my face, deep breaths escaping in earnest, my lungs desperate for air...tears in my eyes. 

Darkness surrounds me. I reach beyond myself to see...to see if he's there. Maybe it all really was just a dream, Cedric never died, Voldemort never came back. But as my eyes adjust and the faint outlines of a dresser and a desk begin to show, I realize that he is not there, he really is dead. It's all my fucking fault that he died, if I hadn't been so **stupid** as to suggest taking the trophy together, if I had just gone for it, he would still be alive. I'm the one responsible for so many deaths these years. Two you say, two is too many. Perhaps that's why fate saw it for Sirius to die, when Cedric died I couldn't even begin to understand the pain that I was putting his parents through and now I do. Maybe it was a lesson from someone. God? No, that's a muggle belief, something I always found rather stupid and ignorant. I hate the Death Eaters, scampering around the magical community as if they truly care about the people there, all the while carrying out their sins in silence. Cowards! Bastards! If you were truly brave you would LET people know who you are! WHAT you are! 

I feel separated from everyone else, cut off somehow. I find myself amazed, as I watch students and teachers go about their daily business so casually, unaware of the fact that it is I that must finally kill Voldemort, or be killed in the course of action. Sometimes, when I'm sitting by myself underneath a tree or behind a bush, I'll catch a glimpse of Cho passing by, chatting it up with one of her friends or another guy. Guy. That's what I am now. In my year with Cho my heart already knows what it has not yet seen. Our entire relationship, if you could call it that made me scratch..made me struggle..and finally, made me breathe. I was free, free from worry or restraints of a girl. Its amazing really, how a girl can do that to a guy. She amazes me. I don't have time for girls now or ever, I have things to do. What girl is gonna wanna be with a guy like me anyway? What girl is gonna want to listen to me confide in her what I already confide in here? There isn't a girl in the world. 

I scratched. I struggled. I'm still suffocating. 

-Harry James Potter 

*****

Author Replies:

Wicchick- I do like DM/HP they're all really good. Scared Potter? Made me cry. Another good one I suggest to you (and anyone else who might be reading this) is "Temping Fate" by Nisha Kole and "The Way it Grows" by Springfall. I don't have any plans yet to write my own DM/HP fic as all these wonderful authors are SO good I would have a hard time living up to them. I'de love to read your story when it's finished.


	7. Please Don't Forget Me

Please Don't Forget Me

Lately what I've realized is that everything is _not_ what it's portrayed to be. When I live with the Dursleys, a long time ago back, I used to sit in the hall and listen to the movies that Mrs.Dursley would watch. It was my only image that I got from the real world. Romance movies, people falling in love, people dying, grief, sadness, and then at the end everything was happy again, like it was all good and the past was past. That was my perception, that's what I lived on for years and years. I always thought to myself that things were bad now, but in the end everything would be good, everyone would be happy. Little did I know, how terribly wrong I was. 

I have a fear that I must confess, because if I don't it'll end up bursting out of me in the middle of dinner at the great hall, and everyone will hear it, when only, I want myself to hear it. My biggest fear is being forgotten after I'm gone. I'm not talking gone, like going to a new school, I'm talking gone in the whole sense of the word, dead, deceased, killed. I know it sounds morbid of me to be thinking that I'm already going to die by Voldemort's wand, if not, by his hands even, but I don't KNOW how I'm going to defeat him, if I even can. How can they expect me, only 15 going on 16, to deal with this kind of prophecy? Soon, everyone will know about the prophecy except for the one person that really wants to hear it. You know who I'm talking about. Once you cut yourself off from the wizarding world, your cut off completely, no news gets to you, no word of mouth, and no friends. I've told myself this time and time again but it doesn't seem to sink through into my mind. I have to cut myself off, don't you see? If I don't then everyone I know and love will be in danger. Voldemort wants **me**, I'm the one he wants to kill and I wont let him kill others. 

Dumbledore said that the prophecy stated that one of us could still live among the wizarding community but not both of us at the same time. I believe, neither of us can. If he dies, I shall die with him. If I die, I'm taking him with me. No, not if, when. My only hope is I am not forgotten. 

-Harry James Potter 

Author Responses:

Wicchick-  Can I just take a moment to tell you how nice you are? Really, your review made me blush. I'll definitely check out that story, I'm always looking for a good fic to read. 

Dolphingirl79- I'm glad that you like it! I guess portraying Harry's feelings isn't something anyone has done before in journal form. No worries, I always plan on updating.

Jasmin-malfoy- Wow! Thank you! Here I was doubting myself and wondering if I should continue and then you and the others write these great reviews and it means a lot to me.

Again, everyone's reviews mean a lot to me. They are my inspiration. You guys ROCK!


	8. Years Before

Note from the Author: I feel very blonde at the moment. It has just come to my attention that I could get sued because I haven't been putting disclaimers on the entries that I write. Stupid Leah, stupid stupid stupid. Good thing I realized this before I DID get sued and then wasted all this money on a lawyer when I already KNOW I'm guilty. So here it is. A disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters.

**Years Before**

In the years before Cedric I had often asked myself what it was to mourn. I had never experienced death before and the death that I did experience I cannot remember. And I am somewhat glad that I can't remember, I know what mourning is now and it is not what I thought it was, what I saw on television it was, it was, to sum it up quite quickly in one word, pain. Funny that I could experience such pain when I had barely known Cedric, he was the enemy...wasn't he? He was the one that took the only girl I have ever liked, he had looks, brains, bravery; it actually surprised me that he was not put in Gryffindor and I have always wondered why. Perhaps, it's not the mourning pain of loss that I feel like so many others have, but the pain of guilt. Yes, I have said it before and I will say it again, it's still feels as if it's my fault that he died. People tell me it's not, but they don't know, they weren't there, they didn't look into his eyes, once grey with life, now empty and hollow. I hope he's happier now. 

Perhaps I should say more. You've heard me ramble on and on. Today, this is all I shall say. 

-Harry James Potter 

Authors Note:

Hey Guys, I know this is short but that's how it is sometimes in journals. You don't know if you're going to be writing a 5 page entry or a simple paragraph. I want you guys to feel like you're actually reading his actual journal, I want this to be like his actual thoughts that he wouldn't tell a soul, not even Hermione or Ron or Dumbledore! Not even Sirius (if he were alive).

Jasmin-malfoy- Thank you! I was hoping you guys would get the concept that I'm trying to layer out here. Harry's innermost thoughts and feelings. Look what you've done; you've made me blush. I don't think I am _nearly_  in tune with Harry as the Great JK Rowling herself is but it's nice to be thought of that way!

Wicchick- What do YOU think it means? Ever since I read that prophecy that Dumbledore explained in the 5th HP book about only one of them, Harry or Voldemort, being able to walk the earth alive I always thought it was JK Rowling's plan to have them BOTH die. That would finalize her 7th book and not leave in a cliffhanger and the wizarding world will go on remembering Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and Voldemort, the creature that threatened to destroy the whole world. As Harry knows, the world does NOT revolve around him and that it WILL go on if he dies. Voldemort does NOT know that and I think that will eventually bring him to his downfall. I have many theories, one of these days I'll do an Authors note entry and tell them all you guys! 

Again! Thanks to those who loyally review my entries! You guys are awesome!


	9. It's My Fault I'm the Boy Who Lived

Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter characters I would be living in a lovely old house in London with a husband and my two kids. But I don't. So I don't. 

It's My Fault I'm the Boy Who Lived

Ever since the ministry has started to believe that Voldemort has actually come back, they all have been calling me "The Boy Who Lived". I am Harry Potter, it is I that is the boy who lived. I'm famous. For what? For having my family murdered? For living alone with muggles for 11 horribly long years? For a scar on my forehead? No, they say, Dumbledore says, No you are famous because you are the only person in the world to survive the deadly curse of Avada Kadavra. You're the only person in the world to survive Voldemort. 

Everyone is relying on me to defeat Voldemort. Don't bloody deny it, you know they are. "If he can survive Voldemorts attack once before, he can do it again!" Bullshit. I've faced Voldemort more times than I can count. In my dreams, at school, in my thoughts. And yes, by some genius stroke of luck, I have survived each and every moment with him. That night...that night in the graveyard with Cedric's dead body only feet away from me and I was tied to the gravestone I thought to myself, I wished, I wished he would just kill me. GOD kill me! I thought, Kill me and let this torture be over! But then..then I heard this voice, **my** voice, from **my** thoughts telling me that cant be. If I died, yes my pain would be over, but what would happen to the rest of the wizarding world? That's when I realized I had to fight to live, I had to fight Voldemort so that I could live, so that I could kill him and live up to what people expect of me. That night..after I told Dumbledore everything, I lay in bed, and I wondered to myself: Is this what it's like to be a hero? To put away fears like death and pain and charge right up to the very person that could kill me, without thought, without care, of what would happen to me? Is that why I fight? So that others wont have to? So that others can live. 

I came to a conclusion today as I lay in bed, thinking, another summer pastime while I stay with the Dursleys. I live a tortured life. Paranoid all the time that Voldemort will kill others, that Voldemort will kill _me_. Then where would the wizarding world be? I want nothing more than to die, to lift all the torture and pain I've been through off my shoulders and finally be free knowing that the wizarding world is safe, knowing that they wont have to worry anymore about him, about me. Voldemort wants me to die. He knows though, he knows that killing me would only bring me my happiness and my happiness is the last thing he wants to give me. It's torture for me to live; it's torture for him to let me live. That's why he has to die with me. When we fight, I wont let myself die until the moment he does. I'm taking him with me. I don't need a damn psychic to prophesize that. She said that only one of us can live here, but not both of us at the same time. I say, neither of us can. 

You don't need divination to tell you that. 

-Harry James Potter


	10. At Least I Have That

Disclaimer: These disclaimers are awfully annoying aren't they? All you people already KNOW that I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, you KNOW that I don't have red hair and the name J.K. Rowling so WHY do we have to bother with them? 

At Least I Have That

I think what's worse than having no parents at all, is having parents and having them not acknowledge your presence as their child. In other words, having them completely ignore you. Look at Neville, silently, when I'm alone and thinking, I'll think about him, about his parents, and it brings tears to my eyes. He has parents, but they don't know that he is their son, how can he live with that? Knowing day after day that he once had parents out there that loved him, parents now, that are incapable of love anymore. I never really thought about it, but he and I have so much more in common than I thought. So much more now that I know, what I think is the whole truth, but more like only most of the truth. God only knows what kind of Secrets Dumbledore still keeps from me. I vowed, that day in Dumbledore's office, to confide in Neville. To tell him everything. He deserves it; he knows exactly how I feel. Perhaps he feels worse. Both our parents are incapable of loving us. Mine are dead. His are dead too, in a different sense of the word. 

But there are other kinds of ways of not having any parents. God..can you imagine? Coming home every night to parents who don't give a damn about who you are, who don't give a god damn if you're hurt or scared or feeling lonely. Parents, who feel that the only worth you are in having around is so that they can punish you, when they need that sweet pleasurable feeling they get after a bad day at work or something. Can you _just imagine_ having parents who don't care if you come home late because they _don't care_ if you've been killed, or hurt? How can someone do that? How can a mother give birth to a child and only feel as if that child is a nuisance? He or she is a part of them, aren't they? Yet these people, these children, deserve to be loved. Everyone deserves love and compassion, even Voldemort for Christ's sake. Everyone, **everyone** deserves love of some sort. 

Sometimes I'm glad my parents are dead. Glad that at least I have parents who once loved me, parents who would still love me if they were alive rather than parents who are alive and don't even know that I exist. At least I have that. 

-Harry James Potter

Review Responses:

Wicchick: All in good time I'll let the world know my theories. All in good time.


	11. Sans espoir Hanté

Disclaimer: Here we go again…….ready? I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I only own this journal/story of Harry Potter. 

Sans espoir Hanté

I ran. Still in uniform from Quidditch, clutching a book of photographs in my hand as I ran blindly through the halls. I didn't care where I was going, how I was getting there or even I if I was getting lost. I had to run, something was clutching its grasp at my heart tighter and tighter, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. 

Finally I ended up in some narrow passageway; there were no lights, no torches. I ran until I hit a wall, all sides surrounded me except that of which I came. I couldn't take it. WHY? I thought, WHY? As I slid down the wall, the picture album slipping from my fingers as I drew my knees to my chest and buried my head in them. I was ready. I was ready to give in to this darkness surrounding me, to that indescribable feeling of forceful sleep. My arms slipped from around myself...my hands fell to the ground and brushed against...paper? What? "Lumos." I barely shed the words to my wand as a light fell from the tip and directed it at the paper before me. 

**POTTER PATRIARCH PHILANTHROPIST HELPS PAY MUGGLE-BORN WAY**

I realized what I had stumbled across. A newspaper clipping. No date. No title of the reporter who had written it. I couldn't grasp the words. Who was this Potter Patriarch? Was it my father? 

_"Not even the most venerable of witches and wizards can hope to grasp the potential and possibilities of magic that a child is capable of. I do not think of this as a donation, since it is simply an investment in all our world's future."_

A sprig of hope grew inside me. Maybe my father isn't the bastard I've been thinking him to be. I didn't care how many Potters there could have been in the world, this one was my father, this Potter who did noble things like invest money into helping muggle children get a better magical education. This was my father. It had to be. I looked around, I wanted more. After all these years of only bits and pieces of my parents I was hungry for more, starving for the least bit of information. And there it was, no clippings, just headlines, yellowed and nearly falling apart for god only knows how many years. I didn't want to pick them up; I didn't want to ruin them. 

**POTTERS DIE NOBLELY IN SERVICE AS AURORS – AN EMPIRE AND A FAMILY MOURNS**

One more. The last one. 

**FORTUNE ASSURED BUT FATE UNCERTAIN FOR SOLE -SURVIVING 12 YEAR OLD POTTER HEIR – WHERE WILL IT END?**

It was then that disapointment began to cling to me. This couldn't be my father. I was only one when he died and I became his heir. This Potter was twelve. I swallowed hard, I refuse to cry. I refuse to cry dammit! I picked up the picture album Hagrid had given to me when I was eleven. Damn you Hagrid! DAMN YOU! All I ask is to get rid of these memories! To get rid of these ghosts! Don't let these damn ghosts haunt me anymore! DON'T! 

I threw it. I wanted to make them go away. Hard as I could down the hall along with the glow of my wand. I don't need my parents! I don't need magic! I don't need anyone! It stopped. It opened. I could see just very faintly the picture it had landed on. Me and parents, laughing, waving, not only living but enjoying life in itself. I don't enjoy life anymore. It was then, that I allowed myself to sit there and weep and finally mourn for the loss of my parents. 

-Harry James Potter 

Authors Note: I just want to say that the articles Harry finds mentioned in this entry are articles from my favorite fanfiction ever on in a story called "Penseive" by Oy! Angelina. If you want to read the story go here: 

Thank you.

P.S. Bonus points to those who can figure out the translation of the title.

Review Responses:

Wicchick- Believe me girl, I wish just as much as you that Harry Potter and his world was real. I guess JK Rowling, the way she writes, has that effect on people.

Blackenedsoul- Aw indeed.

Jasmin-malfoy- lol so have I actually. Scared Potter always makes me cry, it's so sad you don't even care that the characters are OOC. ::sniffle:: I hope that you liked this entry better! It's a break from Voldemort and Sirius and focus's a lot on his parents.


	12. These Foolish Games

From the Author: Well guys, I know that it's been a few days since I've updated but I've been really busy lately with work and saving up for my trip to London. I wrote this a few days ago and it's taken me a bit of time to edit it Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! So here it is! I hope you all like it.

These Foolish Games

It was sometime after midnight that I returned to Gryffindor tower. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the couch, apparently waiting for me. Damn them. I knew they would. I didn't want to talk to them, I didn't want them to try and talk to me, all I wanted to do was go upstairs and close the hangings of my bed, withdraw myself from the world and it's morbid idea of fate. 

I walked right past them, pretending I didn't care, pretending that I didn't see them. Didn't I just say that I didn't want to talk to them? Didn't I just say that I didn't want to see them right just then? Oh but I did. I wanted to tell them everything, I wanted to tell them about my parents, about my god damn thoughts that go through my mind day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute of waking hours and sleeping hours. But I didn't. I saw Hermione open her mouth, of course she would be the one to speak first, she always was. Setting a path for Ron of what would be sympathy or anger. 

"Not now 'Mione." I had told her. Not now. Those were better words. I knew I would never tell her later, I would keep this to myself like I kept most things to myself, like I keep this damn picture album to myself. It reflects my past, my present, even my god damn future in some stupid way. I keep it close to me now though, right next to my bed. I had tucked the papers I had found on the floor closely between the pages. I don't care if they aren't the same Potter's as my family, I want to keep them. I want to believe this god damn fantasy fairy tale that my parents and their parents were these noble heroes's that did good things and died honorably. 

I was sitting in the bathroom just a few moments ago, writing in you, telling you my deepest secrets and fears. You are my only trust, I thought, you are my only confidante. Not even Hermione and Ron could fill in that space. 

In all my years at Hogwarts there have been some years where the entire school would fear me. Like when they thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, they feared me, they saw me withdraw from people, and they saw me as a beast, a monster of some sort. But I wasn't, I wasn't withdrawing, I wasn't a god damn beast and at the end of the year the stupid fucks finally realized that and once again, I was the boy who lived. The same happened in 5th year; no one believed me, they all thought I was insane with the thoughts of Voldemort returning and dueling with him and actually surviving that duel. Then they found out the truth WAS truth and again, I was the boy who lived. But now, I've become what they've been fearing all along. I've become withdrawn from the world; I've become that beast, that monster that, perhaps, has been lurking about inside me all this time, just itching to get out. 

Hermione came in. I hadn't gone to bed yet. I didn't know she knew where the boys bathrooms where. But there she was, standing in the doorway, watching me write, it was minutes before she made the smallest sound in her throat that made me notice her. And yes, I noticed her. She was in her nightgown now; the moon was casting some sort of light on her hair that made it seem less bushy. I didn't talk to her, like I said before, I didn't want to talk to her, I didn't want her to know what is happening to me. I got up, ran my wand hand through my hair, I always do, I don't know why. Damn. My wand. I left it in that hallway. I'll have to go back and get it tomorrow. Maybe. Maybe the day after. 

I walked to the sink; I knew I looked a mess. I hadn't showered since the morning before, my hands were all covered in grime and dust and dirt from sliding down that wall, my face, still stained with tears from the night before. They were dry now, but she could see them. I know that she could see them from the way she looked at me. 

She walked over. I held my breath. 

She turned on the sink and began lathering soap into my hands for me, without a word, without even so much as a warning. Tears began to gather in my eyes again. How could this? How could this simple act of washing my hands cause such emotion for god's sake? I'm bloody Harry Potter! I battled the bloody dark lord and heard his rantings on about my parents without even so much as a fucking tear! And here I was, about ready to ball like a baby because my best friend in the entire world, and probably the only world, was doing a simple act of kindness like washing my hands. 

I watched, nearly amazed as her fingers wove gracefully (?) in and out of mine, washing away the dirt and grime and tears. 

She dried them. I held my breath. 

"Thank you." I whispered to her. Dammit, my voice was breaking. I was finding it harder and harder to hold back these bloody tears. Stupid god damn ignorant tears. Why did they have to come at the worst and best of times? Why were they coming at all? 

"You're welcome." She had whispered to me. I hugged her. That's what I like about Hermione. Anyone else in this situation would have said not to thank them, that it was just them being a friend. But not Hermione. She takes that thank you, she reads in between the words, paragraphs of emotion are between those words and she understands them. It's then that I have never loved her as much as I do now. No, not that sappy love of romance and flowers and kisses, but a different kind. A kind of friendship love that I don't think anyone could understand. But maybe we do, maybe her and I do. 

So I sit here, writing to you, confessing to the most precious moment of Hermione and I's friendship without a second thought of suspicion that it might be heard. 

Here I am you stupid journal, here's my heart, bleeding before you. Here I am on my knees. 

-Harry James Potter 

Note from the Author: Whew! Long chapter huh? I thought you guys deserved it. I have a bit of bad news though, I might start posting on a weekly basis. Work is going to get busier as well as me maintaining somewhat of a social life. I don't like to put times on when I post cause that's when my writing starts to fault and it isn't my best and that would be unfair to you guys cause all you guys deserve is the best. Bare with me! It's a busy time of year. 

Review Responses:

Jasmin-malfoy- Thank you! I've read a lot of stories where the author responds to reviewers and I always loved it and wanted to extend that courtesy to all of my reviewers as well. We are going to see some more of what Harry thinks of other relationships, just Ron, hermione, and draco but other……..things. It's a surprise, you just gotta wait. I plan on checking out that song really soon, I love the movie cruel intentions. Again, I'm sorry it took so long to post this chapter. And maaaaaaaaaaaaybe I've been having a little author doubts, you and wicchick are really my only reviewers, I don't think people are too into the concept. Thanks again!

Wicchick- I think the problem with Harry is that he tends to keep all his emotions bottled up inside for long periods of time and eventually all those feelings and emotions towards people and things are going to come out of him in one long drawn out thing. Personally I hope they come out while he's fighting Voldemort but they could just as easily come out in something simple, like, I dunno, washing a dish or something. I'll give you a hint to figure out the translation to Sans Espoir Hante'. Go to: 


	13. Regrets of War

What I have learned over the past few weeks is that War is coming and everyone is expecting it. The teachers are tense, the students are oblivious...somewhat. They know something bad is about to happen, only they have no idea. 

There is a muggle term that my Uncle liked to use a lot "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" possibly the only brilliant thing I had ever heard him say. It was thought provoking, a term that went through my mind hour after hour, day after day, as I was locked in that god forsaken cupboard that I had eventually begun to call home. A shelter. An escape. The teachers, adults, are preparing for this war, spells, counter curses, defence against dark arts. 

Everyone is afraid of something, whether it be spiders (like Ron), or failing (like Hermione). For me, it is not being forgotten. A stupid fear, one I plan of ridding myself of very very soon. No, my largest fear by far is having the blood of someone else on my hands, my face, my body. I don't want to kill yet that is what I have to do. It's what I'm "destined" for. I don't want to kill Voldemort. I don't want his blood on my hands, his filthy rotten blood drying on my skin after battle. If he is to die by me, he is not to die by my wand but by my very own hands. That I owe to him. Voldemort does not know his enemy. My Uncle was right to keep your enemies closer than your friends (thought I'm  not sure my Uncle said it for what it truely was rather than said to make himself look smart) to know them like you know how to talk or read or eat. Yes, know your enemy but also know your enemie's enemy. It's stupid to think that Voldemort has one enemy, though that's what he may think. Yes **I** am his enemy, but he has others, many others. Muggles. He doesn't know this and that is our advantage, he thinks of muggles as inferior because they can't do magic. Perhaps that will bring him to his downfall, or at least help it in some way. He doesn't know his enemy, but we do, I do. 

Hermione has told me many times over the past few weeks that I shouldn't be thinking so morbidly. Shouldn't I? It's not like I can control it. Thoughts of what is going to happen, what **will** happen run through my mind day after god damn day, nightmares haunt my dreams night after god forsaken night. I can't escape them, perhaps I don't want to. Close your eyes and imagine, just imagine for one second the beginning of a battlefield, calm and quiet at first no one is making a sound, not the chirp of a cricket, the crack of a stick, each enemy staring down the other, each wizard or witch or warrior hoping and praying that someone, anyone, will surrender and the whole bloody mess can be put to a stop before it even begins. I'm telling you now, each wizard, no, each warrior out there on that silent soon-to-be battlefield  knows that it's not going to happen and they're prepared. They're prepared to die. Now, imagine spells flying out of wands, hitting the guilty and the innocent. Imagine children, like ourselves, dying to protect what they so love because they feel if they don't, no one will. Now imagine wands being thrown about, what happens next? A wizard is useless without their wand. Wrong. We've prepared, we've learned wandless magic, muggles have learned wandless battle, if we put two and two together just imagine what we could accomplish. Voldemort doesn't know that, he's not prepared, he's not prepared to fight without magic, he's not prepared to die. Wands are gone, it's brutal fighting now, fist against fist, weapon against weapon. The great thing about a Wizard duel is that it's clean. No blood. Whoever dies, dies by the hand of magic. There are no wounds. There are now. Blood is being thrown about carelessly, people kill left and right, back and forth at anyone who is coming at them. Imagine killing them, imagine taking your weapon, whether it be by wand or hand, and plunging it into their skin, your hands are tainted with their blood now, there's no turning back, they're going to die and it's all your fault.

Then you stop to think. Or so I hope. That person, those people you just killed, how many of them do you think have families? How many of them do you think have kids waiting at home, waiting to see, to hear, if Daddy is all right, if Daddy is coming home to see another christmas or birthday. How many of their families do you think will be changed forever, will be broken or worse, dead, all because you had to kill him. It's not your fault. The whole point of the world is to kill or be killed. As Charles Darwin once put it (and many wizards don't know this, but soon will) it's survival of the fittest. I don't like to kill. I don't want to. THINK people! Think of the consequences of your goddamn actions! YES, you had to kill that death eater...close your eyes now! THAT death eater over there might, just might, have a family waiting for him! That dead Death Eater over there will NEVER see another christmas! Will never see his wife and children or if none, will never experience the joy of having them! THAT one, over there! Look! That death eater, than MAN that you just killed just MIGHT have people that will miss him and mourn for him and they will be in pain! No one sees that anymore! NO ONE sees what I see, NO ONE even stops to think, right before they rip out the "enemies" heart that they might regret what they have done because they may have killed the enemy, yes, but they will have inflicted pain on the innocent. DO you see now? No matter WHAT we do, no matter how many times we tell ourselves that we are not killing or inflicting pain on the innocent, when we kill the enemy we ARE! We will eventually cause them pain! The innocent! The people who did NOTHING to deserve it! NOTHING.

Now, imagine that you actually survived this War of wizards and muggles, human beings, and you are standing there in the middle of a sea of bodies, you killed some, that man over there killed some and so, maybe, did that child over there weeping over his victim because children understand, they don't hide it, they know what regret is and they can feel it. After a bloody battle, after lots of deaths, you notice one thing that will always happen. The battlefield is quiet once more. Only, there are no enemies or warriors this time, there are no people staring down the other, no people praying or hoping for surrender, that's long gone. No, it's over, for now. Silence will surround you, once again, for now. Until the next battle where you have to do it all over again, you have to be prepared to die all over again. It seems impossible. It almost is. Now, after all that, imagine regret tugging at your heart, and tears, and pain, not from your wounds but from the inside. Grief? Maybe. The worst feeling in the world is regret, the last thought you may have is "I wish I didn't have to kill them."

Open your eyes. Do you still think I'm morbid? Perhaps. You've only seen a part of what goes on in my dreams, only a part of the thoughts that haunt me, thoughts I can't get rid of. Still think I'm full of teenage angst? Just some angry 16 year old wizard not being able to handle such a big destiny? They're your thoughts, those are mine.

I've felt the regrets of War, and it hasn't even begun yet.

-Harry James Potter


	14. The Last Marauder

The Last Marauder 

What is it like to weep for others? Surely, over my time at Hogwarts I've cried my fair share of tears, but all of them for myself, I've never cried for someone else. Until, that is, tonight. I've been selfish journal, just thinking about myself and my fate and mourning my own death that hasn't even come yet. I've been thinking I'm alone, yet not at the same time. Sure, I still have Hermione and Ron, possible the two people in the world that only understand me, but they don't understand what I'm going through, I thought no one did, until tonight. 

I was walking along the halls, it was late and without my invisibility cloak. I've gone far past caring whether I get caught my Mrs. Norris or Filch or some kind of teacher, they won't punish me anyway, they all feel too sorry for the Boy who Lived. There I am, again wallowing in self pity, on the verge of tears, tears for myself when I see Lupin heading out of Dumbledores stairway from his office. I didn't notice I had ended up in the hall. I stopped and watched him and a few moments later he looked at me, but it wasn't the same look he used to give me, this look was filled with pain and anguish and I noticed tears brimming in his eyes. It shocked me to see my professor cry,  I couldn't figure for the life of me _why_ he was crying, I mean, what the hell did he have to cry about? He didn't lose his parents or the closest thing to having a parent, a godfather, nor was he the one who was burdened with the fate of either killing or being killed. Then he walked away, looked away without saying hello or goodbye. I stood there fuming, angry at him, what REASON did he have to behaving that way? What REASON did he have to cry?! None! I thought, he had NO reason to shed tears! So I followed him. 

I was determined to get answer. If he was going to cry then he'de better have a damn good reason for doing so. I think he knew I was following him, he sped up his walk. Oh no you damn well don't, I kept telling myself, you bloody bastard will talk to me.  He was at the entrance to the front doors when I called him.

"Remus!"

He stopped. I had never used his given name before, the word tasted bitter and foreign, but right, it tasted right.

"Talk to me!" I demanded "Look at me!For gods sake!"

He stood there. I began to grow even more angry as I advanced towards him, it was no surprise, I knew my temper was on edge lately. All it took for people these days is to look at me wrong or whisper my name and I blew up. They all think I'm insane, they're probably right. 

"WHY?" I asked him, still advancing, my hand flew instinctly to the pocket that was holding my wand "What REASON do you have for shedding those tears? I thought you were brave! I thought you were my fathers friend!"

At those words, my hand raised to grab his shoulder and turn him and _force_ him to look at me, he turned around and grabbed my wrist and for the first time in months looked straight into my eyes. I noticed tears sliding down his cheeks, the hurt, the pain, the anguish all flooding those eyes as he took in my features, as his grip on my wrist loosened and eventually he let go. He looked horrified.

"I was." He whispered hoarsely, "I _was_ your father's friend."

I just stood there. I didn't know what to say, the shock of him finally looking at me hadn't quite worn off yet, it still hasn't worn, and his words…oh his words, he said them with such pain. 

"and Padfoots, and Wormtails…and look what's become of them."

He left then. Turned around and banged his way out the doors. It was then and only then did I realize why he was crying. I had not only lost my parents and godfather, but he had lost his best friends, his only friends and now he had no more. I realize now that I am not alone in the world anymore, there is someone who understands the same pain as I, and that is the last Marauder. So you see now, why I was being selfish and wallowing in self pity, I wasn't even thinking of Remus and his pain and his loss's. As I write this, I want desperately to tell him that he still has a friend, he still has me. So Remus did have a good reason to cry, a damn good reason, I only wish we could share grief. Do you think it would be easier? To mourn. I have no reason to celebrate life anymore. I mourn it. He mourns it. No one should have to mourn life.

-Harry James Potter

****************

Authors Note: Well that was awfully depressing, wasn't it? I'm gonna cheer you all up with a picture.

()_))_Crayola_))_)

Ta da! I just want to say sorry to the people who actually read this diary.  I don't really like to write unless I have the inspiration to write something. It's just like a real journal, which is what I want you all to feel, it's not written in every day, it's written in when he feels the need to write in it. Thanks to everyone who's read it, and I'll reply to reviews again soon enough, when I find the time! Busy busy busy, that's me! 


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